


Is There Somewhere?

by literally_jams



Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M, Runaway AU, Sam-Centric, dancer!lucifer, poet!sam
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-18
Updated: 2015-10-18
Packaged: 2018-04-27 00:09:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 827
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5026048
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/literally_jams/pseuds/literally_jams
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They decide to run away. It's the best and worst decision he's made.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Is There Somewhere?

**Author's Note:**

> this is like really crappy im sorry, you just kind of need to take it line by line and hopefully it makes sense? based off of is there somewhere by halsey. for the samifer song war.

The soft sound of Lucifer’s purple tube socks was the only thing Sam could really focus on. Not the pop station on the radio. Just the sound of Lucifer dancing to Selena Gomez. Sam can’t even believe they did this.

 

They ran away. Away from John, away from Dean. Gone from Deus, from Zachariah. It happened Thursday night. Lucifer climbed the vines that’s always been trustworthy to him, unlike most people. Then he steps into Sam’s room with his duffel bag, asking Sam to run away with him.

 

Sam couldn’t refuse.

 

Now here they are, in a crappy motel room. Lucifer dancing and Sam sitting on the bed with his notebook open.

 

It was nice to see how Lucifer dances. He moves with grace, every hand motion and step lined with meaning and silent words. Lucifer dances as if he’s telling a story. When Lucifer dances, he _does_ tell a story.

 

Sam is a poet. He uses metaphors by the hundred, flower language, intentional Freudian slips. Sam writes about what he dreams to be truth, what he wants to be false, and everything in between.

 

He’s writing about the feeling of being free. The sight of the midnight sky and lights of Lucifer’s car illuminating the yellow highway signs.

 

The song on the radio ends, and switches to infomercials. Lucifer takes his place on the bed, pressing against Sam as close as possible. Though his head is in the other direction, he knows Sam’s fear of someone looking over his shoulder while he writes.

 

_‘Light one up, and hand it over.’_ He writes, as Lucifer’s blonde head starts to droop onto Sam’s shoulder.

 

He wasn’t talking about cigarettes. He was talking about hope. Sam had hope. Lucifer didn't. Hope was viewed as a candle. Sam would light his candle of hope and light Lucifer’s for him. Sam would have hope for the both of them, because Lucifer Novak is not, was not, and will not be a hopeless case.

 

_'I just want to feel your lips against my skin.'_ He erases the words as fast as they came.

 

Sam Winchester does not love Lucifer. He turns to look at him, curled around him. The hotel only had one king available. The constant fall and lift of Lucifer’s chest calms Sam in a way that shouldn’t calm him.

 

Maybe it was his hair, that always looked like he rolled out of bed and didn’t bother taming it. Maybe it was the way he dances. The way Lucifer dances is the way Sam writes. Perhaps it was his demeanor, how he was the rebellious son Sam could have been. But he wasn’t. Perhaps it was because Lucifer understands him in a way no one less ever has. Perhaps it’s how Lucifer respects his opinions and _wants_ to listen to him.

 

Maybe Sam Winchester just fell in love.  

 

Maybe Sam Winchester has been in love for a while.

 

Maybe he just realized it.

 

_“White sheets, bright lights, the_ night life _.”_

 

“This is right where it begins, Sammy.” Lucifer said, on the first day, three states away from Kansas.

 

Sam made a promise to himself, that first day. This was only one part of his life. He promised himself he wouldn’t let this complete him.

 

He’s failing. Sam’s trying to hide it from Lucifer, trying to tuck it away so neatly. He doesn’t want to let this go. He can do this forever. He _loves_ the thrill of it all. Sam’s failing to hide that from both Lucifer and himself.

 

“Is there somewhere you can meet me?” Sam asked, the day they made plans to set sail and never looked back.

 

The answer was evident, of course. The old treehouse they had when they were kids. It has served as their meeting place for ten years.

 

_“Cause I clutched your arms like stairway railings. And you clutched my brain and eased my_ ailings _.”_

 

Ruby. Ah, Ruby. Ruby was one of the reasons Sam agreed to run. Ruby was Lucifer’s girlfriend. She was-and still is, head over heels for Lucifer, even after Lucifer dumped her. Six months ago. Sam remembers the day she got the hint and realized Lucifer didn’t like her. Sam’s house didn’t look so nice that day, drenched in toilet paper and eggs.

 

Sam looks at the sleeping Lucifer again, stopping himself short of pressing his lips to Lucifer’s head.

 

Maybe Sam’s head over heels for Lucifer, too.

 

_“I’m sorry but I fell in love tonight. I didn’t mean to fall in love tonight.”_

 

Sam almost didn’t catch Lucifer’s smile. He hasn’t seen him smile like that in a long time.

 

_“You’re looking like you fell in love tonight. Can we pretend that we’re in love?”_

 

Sam shuts the notebook and pushes his pencil into the metal spiral holding the paper together. He throws it under the bed and turns off the light. Sam curls around Lucifer, content where they are. Happy that they’re here, now. With each other.

 

 


End file.
